Free Tom Swift and His Space Solartron by Victor Appleton II Page A

hall, he ducked out of sight, then made his way behind the shelving and out the door."
    "That’s the way it must have been," agreed Tom mournfully. "I was a chump not to lock that chip away securely."
    "How do you suppose they knew you’d made the recording?"
    "Not a clue, Harlan," said Tom. "You and I talked about it earlier—do you think your office might be bugged?"
    "Not this office!" snorted the former Secret Service agent. "My office, and yours next door, are electronically secured from any invasive electronic equipment of that kind." The matter remained a frustrating mystery.
    The remainder of the busy week passed quickly for Tom as he worked with Arv to create the prototype atom-collector screens. There were no further incidents—and no explanations, either. Even the cause of the problems on the Sky Queen was unaccounted for, although Hank Sterling pronounced himself satisfied that it had originated in the control computer and had been corrected by completely reprogramming it.
    At the back of Tom’s thoughts was a further mystery. Bud seemed to want to discuss something with Tom that was evidently weighing upon his mind. The first few times he had joking tried to pull his friend aside, Tom had politely put him off, pleading the special demands of his current work. After a few such attempts, Bud appeared to abandon the effort. When Tom was finally able to give him some time, Bud shrugged off Tom’s queries and engaged in his usual banter.
    Reaching home late one night after an especially long day of arduous work, the young inventor forced himself to retire at once. He fell asleep almost as soon as his grateful head accepted the invitation of his pillow.
    It seemed only minutes later when Tom was awakened by the muted but piercing chortle of his bedside telephone. He groped sleepily for the instrument and glanced at the luminous clock readout above the keypad.
    Twenty past two! he groaned inwardly. "Hello?—Tom speaking."
    A man’s muffled voice spoke. "Don’t think you’ve outfoxed us, Swift. We know exactly where you’ve stashed the Spring family. Until we get what we want, the Springs aren’t safe—or you and your family either!"
    "Who is this?" Tom snapped, now thoroughly awake. He was trying to figure out if the speaker was one of the men he had overheard in the woods.
    The man gave a growling chuckle. "I’ve been listening to that neat little recording you made the other night, Tom. I’ll put your mind at ease—it wouldn’t have helped you. In fact, it would have scared you, hearing our plans.
    "Now I’ll let you get back to bed. I’m sure that big brain needs to cool down and rest. Maybe you’ll think over what I’ve said. We don’t want any more accidents, do we?"
    The receiver clicked off at the other end of the line, replaced by the dial tone. Realizing there was no way to trace the call, Tom hung up as well. He lay awake for nearly an hour, mulling over the threat. "Accidents"! There was no question now but that he, as much as Ted Spring’s family, had become involved in some mysterious plot that could quickly turn deadly!
    But what exactly is the reason? he kept asking himself. What are they after? What do they want from Ted? He recalled that the voices in the woods had mentioned "docs"—documents. What sort of documents? Something concerning Dakin Spring’s jet crash?
    The next morning, conferring with his father and the other key personnel trying to unravel the conundrum—Enterprises attorney Willis Rodellin, Ames, and Ames’s assistant Phil Radnor—it became clear that progress, if any, was coming with aching slowness.
    "I still haven’t been able to confront Hampshire," said Rodellin angrily. "Now his office says he’s off on vacation and unreachable. By the time this is over with, I’ll see him disbarred!"
    "Harlan and I are pursuing an idea as to your mystery lab intruder, Tom," Radnor reported. "Better not get into it just yet, but we may have something to tell you